Calypso Magic

by Catherine Coulter

  The Spanish Inquisition should have had this torture, he thought. He felt her nipple respond without her volition. Her breast felt heavy, richly full, and he swallowed convulsively.

  She moaned softly and he froze.

  Diana felt marvelously warm. She moved slightly, onto her back, and felt the warmth increase. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was two inches from Lyon's face. He looked as if he were in pain.

  She brought her hand up to touch his cheek. "Lyon? Are you all right?"

  Then she felt his hand on her breast. Her eyes widened. His face blocked out everything. He kissed her gently.

  Oh, dear, she thought, and then she stopped thinking. The insidious warmth seemed to explode low in her belly. Her body arched against him. She wanted more. She wanted

  Lyon released her abruptly, cursing vilely. He quickly turned away from her and rose, only to realize that he was quite naked. He grabbed a blanket to cover himself. He was breathing hard, his manhood thrusting outward. He had to keep his back to her. He wouldn't allow her to see the evidence of his lust.

  "Turn away, Diana, now."

  She obeyed him, her mind in chaos. Was she that inept at kissing? That repellent to him? Stop it, you silly fool! What a perverse creature she was.

  "Stay that way or you will have your maidenly sensibilities thoroughly lacerated."

  "Why?"

  Was that her voice? So high and thin as Harmon's chicken soup?

  "Be silent."

  Her breast throbbed. Not a hurt kind of throbbing, but a very nice sort of throbbing, and it sent waves of feeling to her belly. She remembered that time when he'd assisted her out of the carriage and carried her. Only this time, the feelings were stronger, more confusing. Her lips were still warm and tingly from his mouth.

  Lyon shrugged into his dressing gown. Still, his rampant manhood was in extreme evidence. He quickly sat himself in the chair behind the small desk.

  "You can turn over now if you like."

  She did. She stared at him thoughtfully, seeing the tension in his eyes, the flush on his tanned cheeks, the rigid set of his shoulders. She didn't realize that her eyes were as soft-looking as creamy butter, vague and a bit dazed, but Lyon did.

  "I think," he said very slowly, "that we should have Captain Carstairs marry us today."

  All dreamy vagueness disappeared at his words.

  "Why?"

  "Don't be a fool, Diana! You wouldn't be a virgin if I hadn't fled the bunk."

  "Just because you were feeling my womanly parts?"

  "Just one womanly part. And, I might add, that one part was nearly enough to send me over the honorable edge. Now, I expect you to be reasonable about this."

  He had caressed her breast and kissed her. Was that all that was needed for a man to lose his mind? His control? She discounted her own feelings. In any case, they were long gone. Perhaps she'd just imagined those very oddspurts, or whatever one called them. She decided to feel sorry for him and his male weakness. After all, he'd left her because he'd wanted to be honorable, hadn't he?

  "I will be reasonable," she said, easing deeply under her blankets. "You will probably regain your aplomb in a few minutes and regret your words. Now, I am still sleepy." With that dismissal, she turned away from him and closed her eyes.

  "Diana, I am going to beat you. Again. Thoroughly."

  "Ah, so you have your manly parts under control? Now you will resort to threats?"

  He said nothing and she was beginning to relax when she felt him ease beside her on the bunk.

  "Lyon!"

  "Be quiet. Lie still. It's still very early and both of us might as well get some more sleep."

  Small chance of that, he thought.

  "Diana?"

  "Hmmm?"

  "I have large hands. Have you ever noticed?"

  "Yes, very manly hands."

  That sidetracked him for a moment. "Manly hands?"

  She giggled. "Yes. That is a favorite word in my novels."

  "Very well. Did you also realize that your breast overflows my manly hand?"

  "Stop it! You are supposedly a gentleman, a ---"

  "Very true. And I will also be your husband."

  "No!"

  "I think I should accustom you to the idea. Accustom you to my touch. I think you much enjoyed my touching you."

  She sat up, her fat braid slapping against the side of his face, the blankets held like armor against her chest. Her face was flushed, her expression uncertain.

  "My God, you're not afraid of me, are you? My cocky, mouthy Diana? And I, but a mere man?" He paused a moment, then added, "Perhaps a manly man?"

  "You are about as amusing as an attack of biliousness."

  "That's more like it. Why don't you lie down and let me hold you? You will get used to it."

  To his utter surprise, she said not another word, and in the next instant, she snuggled down and lay her cheek against his shoulder. Her hand, fisted, sat atop his chest.

  His arm automatically came down and pulled her closer against him. He was smiling, triumph a sweet taste, when she began snoring, loudly, interspersed with equally loud snorts.

  "I imagine you can't keep that up for very long," he said. He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes. No, he thought again. Diana would never bore him.

  He was right, she thought, striving for another snore. Damn him anyway. Here she was bound against him, his arm firm about her back. She didn't know what to do with her hand. His flesh felt very warm beneath her fingers.

  When she couldn't produce another obnoxious sound, she said, with sweet understanding, "I know what it is that troubles you. You miss your little amour. Men, I understand from your precious Charlotte, must relieve themselves in several ways."

  He wouldn't let her rile him. Relieve?

  "However, I refuse to let you relieve yourself with me."

  "You sound like a chamber pot."

  The mention of that particular item made her realize that she had a distressing problem of her own. She decided to ignore it.

  A few minutes later, he was frowning at her squirming. "What's the matter? Can't you get comfortable?"

  This is awful, she thought, but saw no hope for it. She'd managed during the past week to take care of this physical need when he wasn't in the cabin. As for Lyon, she imagined that he, like most the crew, relieved themselves away from the wind off the side of the ship. She sighed. "Lyon, would you please leave the cabin for a while?"

  "Be quiet. I'm sleepy."

  "You don't understand. I need toOh, drat, please, just go, for a few minutes."

  He began laughing, she felt the deep rumbling in his chest before the sound came from his throat. She lifted her hand from his chest and poked him hard in his stomach. He grunted.

  "You tell me you're a gentleman. Prove it."

  "All that talk about relieving, huh? When we're married I won't have to leave."

  He saw from her face that this was an appalling thought. "Kiss me," he said, "and I'll leave you to the chamber pot."

  "I'll bite you instead, you rotter!"

  "Perhaps you'd best not yet. I shall have to teach you how to make bites pleasurable. Come now, Diana. You know I can hold out indefinitely. I don't imagine that you can."

  "You are a bastard." She leaned down and kissed him quickly, her lips tightly closed.

  "There is so much I shall have to teach you." He released her and rose from the bunk.

  He gave her a wicked smile before he left the cabin, a blanket wrapped about his waist.

  Lyon sat across from Rafael, his leg slung over the arm of his chair, a glass of excellent French brandy in his hand. Rafael, equally relaxed, tossed a card from his hand onto the top of the desk. They were alone in the captain's cabin, a very masculine lair, playing piques.

  "Sorry," said Lyon, and placed his queen of hearts on the ten of hearts.

  "I wasn't counting," said Rafael as he frowned at the remaining cards in his hand. "I was never much of a gambler. My brother n
ow, well, never mind about him." No, he didn't want to think about Damien, his twin brother.

  Lyon played the jack of clubs, saying as he did so, "By any chance are you related to the Carstairs in Cornwall?"

  Rafael looked bored.

  "I believe their estates are near to St. Austell."

  "I have no relatives, anywhere."

  Their play continued in silence.

  "It's odd, you know," Lyon said. "I remember meeting a Baron Drago some years ago. He was an older man, of course, but if my memory serves me, you have something of the look of him." Lyon, gazing at Rafael through his lowered lashes, saw him pale slightly. I've hit upon a mystery here, he thought, and because he liked Rafael Carstairs, he shrugged and said, "I fear if you keep playing me, you'll lose your ship."

  "I'm sometimes a fool, but not that great a fool," said Rafael, relaxing now, knowing that Lord Saint Leven wouldn't touch that particular hornet's nest again. "What is Diana doing?"

  "Last time I saw her, she was teaching one of your sailors a better way to make some sort of knot."

  Rafael grinned and tossed out another card, only to see it gobbled up. "She is charming," he said. He watched Lyon thoughtfully study the remaining cards in his hand. "I should say, though, that you two should tie the proverbial knot before long."

  Lyon dropped his cards.

  "I am not a fool, Lyon," Rafael said quietly. "Nor do I wish to pry, but you have set yourself something of a problem."

  "How did you know?" It didn't occur to Lyon to lie; as the captain had said, he wasn't a fool.

  "Perhaps the wedding ring, or absence of one at first, then Neddie mentioned to Rollo about blankets piled on the floor. Also, you and Diana do not seem like lovers." He paused a moment, then added deliberately, "You are both quite aware of each other, but you are not lovers. At least not yet."

  "You are observant," Lyon said at last. "I trust no one else knows of our predicament?"

  "No, but Blick is a wily one, probably comes from the fact that he's the son of a Sussex vicar."

  "Good God," Lyon said, distracted. "A vicar's son?"

  "Yes, indeed. He and his father, well, they don't get along, you might say. In any case, he's said nothing to me about the two of you."

  "Diana has been so careful about those wretched blankets of hers. Ah, well, 'tis done."

  "No, nothing is done. I consider you a friend and Diana as well. As you know, I am acquainted with her father, Lucien Savarol. He may be a West Indian planter, but he is a gentleman and his daughter is a lady. I wish I could advise you, but ---"

  "You were quite right. I have already determined to marry the chit, but she is the one who refuses. I can't very well force her to wed me."

  Rafael leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Seduce her," he said.

  Lyon grinned, then winced. "She would try to unman me, she's already threatened as much. In fact, she tried it once, and thankfully missed, but that is another tale. Don't say it, Rafael, she understands the consequences of not marrying me, at least that's what she says. But she is a guileless creature, if that's possible for a woman to be."

  Though sorely tempted, Rafael said nothing to that. "I have discovered, as I am certain you have also, that life is never simple. Unfortunately it is we ourselves who tend to complicate things. I don't suppose that you've noticed how she looks at you, particularly when you are not aware of it. She is not at all indifferent to you. Indeed, I would say that at the very least she desires you. Perhaps, my friend, if you did seduce her, she would come about." He gave Lyon a cocky grin. "I assume that you would be proficient at it."

  "Who knows? The chit is driving me insane. Can you imagine living in such close proximity and trying to keep yourselfWell, enough. It is not your problem."

  "We have about three and a half more weeks before we reach St. Thomas. If the weather holds, that is. Unfortunately on the islands society is so tight-knit, it would be well nigh impossible to wed her there, secretly, without everyone finding out about it. That was your plan, was it not?"

  "Yes, if I could get Diana to agree, damn her." Lyon looked down at the cards on the desktop. He picked up an ace and stared at it a moment. "You say she is not indifferent to me?"

  "No, she is not. I do know something about women, you know."

  "That is what I was afraid of."

  "Rest your mind, Lyon. It has never been my habit to poach on another man's preserves. She is yours, not mine."

  "Hell," Lyon said, tossing the ace in the air, "I didn't want her to be mine. I didn't want any woman."

  "A gentleman does not aspire to dishonor a lady. As I see it, old boy, you haven't a choice."

  Lyon cursed.

  "Seduce her," Rafael said once again. He saw Lyon tense and wondered if he was thinking about making love to that lovely young woman. "Another game, Lyon? I am feeling more lucky."

  "You think I am that far gone, do you?"

  Rafael laughed.

  13

  Waiting for one's pleasures is weary work.

  —PETRONIUS

  Lyonel Ashton, Sixth Earl of Saint Leven, had never before in his life seduced a virgin, a lady virgin, a nineteen-year-old lady virgin who was not, after all, indifferent to him, at least according to Captain Rafael Carstairs.

  He decided to try once again to convince her to marry him, silly stubborn girl. He was becoming decidedly tired of her foolish refusal. He found her in Blick's small office, the two of them with their heads together. He felt an alarming spurt of jealousy, recriminations hovering on the tip of tongue when Diana looked up and smiled at him.

  "Lyon! Blick knows so very much about the properties of the plants and herbs on the islands. He is teaching me about plantain. I never knew it could be used successfully for eye inflammation. Did you know that in Africa the juice of the leaves is used for malaria?"

  Lyon smiled at her enthusiasm. He felt immensely small over his bout of jealousy. As for Blick, he was looking like a proud, benign parent, and Lyon felt even more foolish at his initial reaction, for Blick was also of the age to be her father. He said easily, "No, I didn't know. Fascinating."

  "And then there is the canna lily. It is used for stomach aches. It, however, has deleterious effects, and one must be quite careful."

  "I believe Lyon wishes to speak to you, Diana," said Blick, giving her a look of amused affection.

  "Oh? What is it you want, Lyon?"

  Lyon ground his teeth. "If you can come with me a moment, Diana, I should like to speak to you in private."

  Diana cast a look toward the small vial of ground goatweed, to be used as a tisane for purging. "Oh, very well," she said, and Lyon wished he'd kept his mouth closed, indeed wished he'd waited until the evening, when they were alone in their cabin.

  "Will you have more time for me this afternoon, Blick?"

  "Certainly, Diana, if all the men keep their bones and teeth intact and Harmon doesn't poison them at lunch."

  She followed Lyon, waving at Blick over her shoulder. When they reached the deck, Diana immediately walked to the railing and stared out over the endless stretch of water. She was leaning over the rail when spray flew upward. She laughed, wiping her eyes.

  "It is magnificent, is it not?" She waved her arms toward the horizon. "But you know, it's as if we're not any place specific. It is the same day in and day out. We could be where we were yesterday for all the change one sees. I guess I still am not used to not seeing land." She sighed. "There are so many islands at home, you know. Landmarks that make you feel that you are someplace definite."

  "Yes, I know. You've told me."

  She turned to face him. "Forgive me for running on so. What is it you wanted, Lyon?"

  He drew in a deep breath. "You are quite tanned. You even have a smattering of freckles across your nose. I want you to marry me. Today, perhaps tomorrow, at least marry me before we arrive at St. Thomas."

  "You are quite tanned also, but there are no freckles. No, I won't. Not today, n
or tomorrow, not before St. Thomas."

  "And that's that?"

  She saw that he was quite serious, indeed, he was holding himself up very straight. He looked lovely, she thought vaguely, the stiff ocean breeze tousling his thick chestnut hair. His eyes looked even bluer with his face so tanned. She wanted to touch him, and she did, placing her hand lightly on his shirtsleeve. "Nothing has changed, surely you understand that. My father will protect me. There is no reason for you to, well, to sacrifice yourself through what you yourself have called my blundering."

  He looked past her a moment, thinking furiously. Damned little twit! "I don't like your hair braided," he said.

  "Since I haven't been able to wash my hair since the storm, it is the only thing to do. I am sorry you find me so repulsive."

  He gave her a look of acute dislike. "The good Lord knows you are anything but repulsive. What you are, my girl, is a stubborn witch, and at the moment I am resisting a particularly powerful urge to throttle you."

  "There are a number of witnesses, aren't there?"

  "If I were to tell them of your singularly stupid stance, I imagine that they would applaud me." He dashed his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "Look, Diana, there is no going back, surely you must realize that. You spoke of your blunder. Well, it's done and I've accepted the consequences. You must also."

  "I don't wish to discuss it further, Lyon. Now, let me tell you that Harmon is making a special dish for us this evening. Actually, it's for you, to give you an idea of the foods we eat at home."

  He raised a brow at that, accepting her sidestepping for the moment at least.

  "'Tis a surprise. Are we dining with Rafael and Blick?"

  "Probably," he said. "With a special dinner, I have no doubt that we will."

  He watched her walk away, her step firm, in perfect harmony with the swaying deck. The breeze ruffled her skirt, and he swallowed, seeing the clear outline of her legs and hips.

  "Very well, Diana. It will just have to be seduction," he said to no one in particular, "since you refuse to consider reason."